


pretty little thing

by PaintedVanilla



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crossdressing, Dream Sex, Established Relationship, Foreplay, M/M, Sexual Fantasy, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wrists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 14:57:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20194138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintedVanilla/pseuds/PaintedVanilla
Summary: Crowley has one fantasy in particular he’s a bit too embarrassed to share.





	pretty little thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dvldegg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvldegg/gifts).

Aziraphale’s hands start at Crowley’s ankles, and even just that is enough to make him blush and look away.

“Aziraphale,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “We really shouldn’t...”

Aziraphale hums, his manicured fingers toying with the fabric of Crowley’s stockings. “I know, my darling, but the truth is I simply cannot resist you.”

He lifts Crowley’s leg, enough to pull it from the skirts of his dress, and presses a kiss to the side of his knee. “I’ll stop if you’d truly like me to, darling, but do you?”

Crowley blushes and looks away with a coy smile.

“I thought so,” Aziraphale mutters. 

He lowers Crowley’s leg and pulls his skirts back down; he’s currently dressed in a period gown, although which period it’s from, he wouldn’t be able to say. It might not be from any era at all, seeing as he’s taken fabrics and colors and cuts and thrown them all together into a mess of what looks best on him. The result is a golden dress made of silks and satins and layers of the skirt filled with a sheer, glimmering material. His arms are bare, the dress sleeveless; Crowley made it that way for one reason only, and Aziraphale understands this when the demon reaches his hand out for him.

Aziraphale takes his hand, using it to pull himself closer, and then he lays a kiss to his palm. Crowley makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat, and then a louder noise when Aziraphale presses a kiss to his wrist. 

Aziraphale continues laying kisses up his arm, and Crowley mews and keens the entire time, squirming until Aziraphale finally presses a kiss to his neck. Crowley rocks his hips up, half hard and searching for any sort of friction. He feels the breath on his neck when Aziraphale chuckles.

“You’re so cute,” he says, and Crowley allows himself the luxury of not denying it. “Do you want me to touch you, you pretty little thing?”

“Yes,” Crowley whines. 

Aziraphale’s hand comes to rest on his hip. “Would you like me to ravish you, my darling?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Crowley whines , canting his hips up. 

Aziraphale presses a smattering of kisses onto his neck, up to his jaw, his cheek, and finally to the corner of Crowley’s mouth. His presence feels warm but fuzzy, like he’s not all together there, and Crowley leans up to kiss him in an attempt to remedy that.

“Crowley.”

Crowley is pulled, albeit gently, from the fantasy, his eyes opening to find himself laying on the couch in the backroom, once again wearing slacks and a nice button up.

Aziraphale is looking at him affectionately from his desk. “Were you having a nice dream?”

Crowley blinks at him.

“You were making noises,” Aziraphale elaborates.

A blush tints Crowley’s cheeks. “It was— fine.”

Aziraphale smiles. “What were you dreaming about?”

“None of your business,” Crowley says, embarrassed, rolling over on the couch to face away from him. 


End file.
